


anything for love (but not that)

by LWTIS



Category: South Park
Genre: 5+1 Things, Craig cannot carry a tune to save his life but He Tries, Culture Shock, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Obscure Wedding Traditions, South Park: The Stick of Truth, Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-01-31 09:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21444043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LWTIS/pseuds/LWTIS
Summary: Craig thought the hardest part would be proposing. But as it turns out, there’s quite a few things a groom-to-be has to do before he can marry a Barbarian warrior.AKA - five increasingly obscure wedding traditions Craig bravely faced, and one where he drew the line.Written for the Book of Love zine.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak
Comments: 3
Kudos: 120





	anything for love (but not that)

**1.**

_ “YES!” _

The words barely register before tattooed arms are winding around his neck, the sheer force of the embrace knocking him off his feet. For a long moment, Craig can only cling on, ears ringing and lungs straining for air.  
After what seems like an eternity, Tweek lifts his head. Sunlight flickers through his haphazard hair, sparkling along too-wet eyes. 

“Yes.” he repeats, voice softer but no less firm. “_ Yes _, I will marry you.” 

There are more words - spluttered, rasped between half-swallowed sobs and disbelieving giggles - before shaky hands are cupping his cheeks and lips are pressing against his own. Heart still pounding, Craig returns every kiss, even when his body protests at the lack of oxygen. Exhilaration slowly replaces the nervous adrenaline in his veins, coursing alongside sheer _ relief _\- that Tweek said yes, that he managed to ask without his knees giving out, that he only rambled the slightest bit when it all got a bit too much.

(He wrote a _ speech, _for God’s sake. He would have had no choice but to jump off a cliff had Tweek said no.)

The noise from the crowd around them suddenly shifts into sharp focus, their spectators swarming closer - grins wide and voices loud. Hands smack along his shoulder, congratulations pouring in from all sides. Someone - Clyde, probably - knocks his cowl aside to muss up his hair.  
All of a sudden, there’s a shout and people standing closest to them all reach towards the ground. Craig gets a quick glimpse of the buckets before his vision is clouded and there’s _ flour in his mouth. _ He gasps for air - lifting his head just in time to get smacked with a faceful of feathers. 

With an ungraceful splutter, he tries to squirm out of reach. He is half-expecting howls of rage from his other half, with vehement demands for an explanation. But instead, Tweek just _ chuckles _. 

“You better not have - _ nghh _ \- murdered _ my _pillows for all these.” he remarks drily, feathers fluttering as he shakes his head.

“What,” Craig feels inclined to ask, “the _ fuck?!” _

“It’s to ward off evil spirits.” Tweek replies, as if it was obvious. His smile wavers, uncertainty colouring his voice as he tilts his head. “You...you _ do _ know, right? About the wedding customs with the feathers and the arrows and - and all that? That’s...why you asked with everyone - _ nghh _ \- here, didn’t you?” 

Blinking the flour out of his eyes, Craig can only nod.   
The weeks leading up to the wedding suddenly seem _ very _ long. 

**2.**

The ceremonial harp is slippery and weighs a _ tonne _.

Gritting his teeth, Craig readjusts his grip for the dozenth time. The straps of the instrument dig into his flesh, cutting off the circulation in his arm again. He’s already dreading the odd-shaped bruises he will be sporting tomorrow. To his left, Jimmy struggles to fight back a smirk. 

_ “This,” Craig had said the night before, “is fucking stupid.” _

_ “I-i-i-it’s cul...culture.” the bard replied, adjusting Craig’s hands on the unfamiliar instrument. _

_ “Well, they can take culture and shove it up my - “ _

_ “A-a-are you s-sure? Th-that s-sounds l-like a lot of s...splinters.” _

“How long?” Craig asks, for the fourth time. He gets a roll of eyes for his troubles. 

“F-f-five more mi-minutes.” 

Five more minutes until the scheduled serenade underneath the groom-to-be’s window could officially began. Already, crowds were forming around them, expectant and undisguised in their glee.

Years ago, when Tweek had brought Craig back to introduce to his clan, the warm reception had taken him by surprise. People seemed genuinely delighted by his presence - by their relationship. Sometimes a little _ too _delighted. Barbarians, as he had learnt, were quite the nosy, shameless bunch - deeply invested and not-so-secretly romantic. Which is probably why the onlookers seemed so excited at the prospect of a serenade.

The drums finally sound in the distance, signalling the hour. On the upstairs balcony, the windows jerk open, revealing the messy hair of his husband-to-be. Their eyes meet for a moment before Craig hoists the harp up.   
The first stanzas - sung slightly off-key, accompanied by harried strumming and Jimmy’s enthusiastic lute - has the audience wincing, hands jerking towards their ears. The plethora of reactions - from shock to morbid fascination - fills Craig’s petty little heart with glee.  
(It should be the other way around, in all honesty. Tweek was the gifted one, with the sweet voice and the ferocious skills on half a dozen instruments. But if he was going to do this proposal, he was going to do this _ right _ , to every last detail.  
Besides - what Craig might have lacked in singing talent, he made up for in stubborn, malicious determination.)

For someone with no prior experience in playing instruments, he thinks he does alright. The rhythm keeps slipping from his grasp, palms sweaty and voice as nasal as ever. At the end of the chorus, Craig has to pause to take a breath. Head spinning, he has just enough composure to step on a now-sniggering Jimmy’s foot.  
In the low light, he can see Tweek’s eye twitch, corners of his mouth trembling. It’s all the encouragement he needs to hoist the harp higher, voice rising with renewed determination. 

_ “The book of love is long and boring - “ _

**3.**

The first arrow hits his shins. 

Despite the projectile lacking a sharp tip, the impact still stings something fierce. With what he feels is a perfectly justifiable amount of scowling, Craig flips him off.  
The second arrow smacks against his clenched fingers, prompting him to drop his arm with a yelp. A third arrow whizzes through the air in quick succession, hitting his shoulder.  
Tweek is already by his side when the thief straightens up, the gleam in his eyes just a little too smug. He scoops the arrows up, dusting them off before breaking each in half. 

“And now we’ll love each other forever?” Craig asks, wincing as he touches his shoulder. His collection of weird-shaped bruises only seems to grow the closer they get to the wedding. 

Tweek nods, gaze lingering on the broken arrows before he moves to pack them away. “...better safe than - _ nghh _ \- sorry, right?” 

There’s a slight twitch in his fingers, a ghost of a tremor in his voice - the faint taste of old anxieties colouring his words. Without thinking, Craig moves closer. It takes a few wide strides to catch up with Tweek’s quick steps. “Why was I the one being shot at again?”

An elbow digs into his ribs, equal parts fond and impatient. “Because out of the two of us, I’m the only one who can shoot with a bow.” Although the word _ ‘dumbass’ _ remains unsaid, Tweek’s expression implies plenty. “If it was the - _ ack! _ \- other way ‘round, we’d be here till sundown.” 

Memories flashing through his mind with uncomfortable clarity, Craig wisely holds his tongue. Between the edge of the forest and the gates of the town, his sore fingers find their way into his fiancé’s grasp.

“...when we planned this, I didn’t think it’d only take like, five minutes.”

“We’re on a _ schedule!” _

A snort, accompanied by a tightening grip. “...You didn’t have to aim so high, y’know.” 

“Be grateful I didn’t - _ nghh _ \- listen to Clyde. He kept saying this was my one and only chance to shoot you in the balls without - _ argh! _ \- consequences.” 

**4\. **

Tweek didn’t wear rings. 

There were many reasons for this, most of them practical - when one spent so much time gripping crossbows and axes, jewellery on fingers became both obstructive and uncomfortable. The remaining reasons were more superstitious and paranoid - all stemming from hypothetical accidents (_“What if it gets - argh! - caught in an escaping enemy’s clothes, Craig, and tears my fingers clean off?!” _ ) or from Jimmy’s favoured stories, where rings were at the heart of every robbery, prophecy and unwanted adventure.  
Thus, Tweek didn’t wear rings. 

And yet, during his last visit home, Craig found himself sitting opposite his parents, asking if he could maybe, _ possibly _ have the ring his father proposed to his mother with.   
The ring in question was a family heirloom - a slim silver band with a polished emerald stone. The stories about its origin varied - some claimed a great-grandparent had sculpted it with their own hands, whilst others insisted it was a purchase made from the bargain section of a travelling jewellery shop. Regardless, the ring had been at the heart of many conversations about marriage during childhood - and it had been on his mind ever since the topic stopped being so hypothetical.  
He didn’t expect Tweek to wear it, even if _ (when?) _ he said yes. But still - it felt important, somehow.

Craig suspected to get raised eyebrows, with questions and concerns - that they were _ too young, too foolish, too unprepared _. Instead, his parents just exchanged smug glances, his mother already reaching into her pocket for her keys. 

“Of course, darling.” she had said, eyes glittering with perfect faux innocence. “What a _ lucky _coincidence that I got it polished just last month!” 

-

“Are you - _ nghh _ \- sure you wanna do this?”

Hand inches away from the door, Craig glances over his shoulder. “...we’re on the tattoo guy’s doorstep. Wedding’s tomorrow. It’d be kinda stupid to be unsure _ now. _”

Tweek huffs, wringing his hands. “I just - know your feelings on -_ argh! _ \- needles.”

“I’m fine, Tweek.” Craig replies, stony-faced. His stomach, coiled in a tight knot of anxiety, twitches with renewed nausea. “Completely.”

“Right.”

“Besides, this was _ my _idea.” 

“Mhmmm.“

“I robbed a carriage guarded by a dozen mercenaries last week - I can handle getting a tiny tattoo on my finger.”

Tweek nods, smile smoothing into curves Craig is all-too-familiar with - the look of someone who knows he’s full of shit. As they step through the threshold - accompanied by a chorus of bells - shaky fingers latch onto Craig’s, holding him with almost aggressive affection. His grip stays strong as they take their seat opposite the artist, left hands extended on the work table.   
When Craig digs his nails into his skin at the first touch of the needle, Tweek just holds him tighter.

-

Tweek’s grip is just as tight the next day, white-knuckled and determined. There’s a faint tremble to his lower lip, and a shine to his eyes that makes it impossible to look away.  
Next to them - a thousand miles away - the priest asks them to step closer. Craig’s free hand glides to cup Tweek’s cheek, the black rune stark and proud against the skin of his ring finger.   
As Tweek presses into his touch, the light glints off the emerald ring dangling off the chain around his neck. 

**5\. **

“Who the _ hell_,” Craig hisses in-between gasps for air, “comes up with this shit?!”

Tweek only rolls his eyes in response, tugging the saw towards him with a grunt. 

After their vows, the former thief had been granted approximately two minutes to savour the moment before people were grabbing at him in the name of tradition, cheerfully shoving a two-handed saw in his hands. Another insurance, he’d been informed as his friends dragged a log into the room - something to showcase how the newly wedded couple could work together as a team. 

A rather simple affair for Tweek, whose ceremonial outfit consisted of neatly tailored trousers and jewelled belts. For Craig - clad in roughly fifteen million layers - it’s a different matter altogether. 

“I suppose the - _ haaaaah _ \- million and one battles we fought together don’t - _ ughh _ \- count as proof for good teamwork?”

“Shut up and -_ argh! _ \- saw faster!” 

**+1**

Night falls before he knows it. 

The music has faded to a lull in the background, the singer long retired. The once-packed tables now only host smudged plates and empty bottles, the remains of the wedding cake taking the centerpiece. Tweek is tucked against his chest, swaying along to the beat in the loosest interpretation of dancing. His thumb rubs over Craig’s knuckles every so often, as if to confirm he’s still there. Craig understands - under the twinkling stars, wrapped up in the scent of twilight and wildflowers, it’s not unlike a beautiful dream he never wants to wake from.

The musicians strike the final chord, earning a ripple of sleepy applause. With a grin, the priest steps up to join them on the little stage.

“Now that we’ve all drank our fill and danced, there’s only one more thing to do on this fine night.” 

The gleam in his eye is enough to set the alarm bells ringing in Craig’s head. He must make some sort of noise, prompting Tweek to lift his head. Blissfully unaware, the priest spreads his hands. 

“As is traditional, the young couple will now consummate their marriage here!” he declares, with the tone one assigns to weather conversations. “Under the stars - with the whole tribe as witness!” 

A hush falls over the crowd. Somewhere in the distance, a cricket chirps. 

“Nope.” Craig hears himself say, voice strained and a few octaves higher than normal. The arm wrapped around Tweek waist tightens. “Nope, nope, _ nope. _ I’m _ out_.” 

Harried fingers find the smoke bombs nestled in the depths of his pockets. A snap and a gust of foul-smelling mist later, the newlyweds are gone without a trace.   
Sniggering, the priest shakes his head before turning back to the guests. 

“Told you! Everyone pay up!”

-

Amidst the higher branches of the nearby oak tree, thunderous blue eyes fix themselves on a gently-trembling warrior.

“When were you going to tell me about _ that?! _” Craig hisses, cheeks aflame. He has to grab onto the branch to steady himself. “Who the fuck comes up with - “ 

Tweek’s shoulders shake and the thief’s words stutter out once he realises his husband is _ laughing_. 

“...seriously?”

Tweek bites his lip. Hands are already curling around Craig’s cheeks, and he hates how he instinctively presses into his touch. 

“Was that seriously - “

“I’m sorry!” the blonde says, finally managing to fight his laughter. “You were just so determined, and everyone was so excited, and it - “ 

“Did you make them all up?! The serenade, the arrows, the sawing - ”

“No! No, they really are tribe traditions!” Tweek insists, smile twitching into something a little guilty. “Just - maybe not as...relevant these days...” 

“Oh my _ God._”

“And there might have been a betting pool going on - “ 

With a groan that could probably be heard all the way in the Elven Kingdom, Craig drops his head against Tweek’s shoulder, vowing swift and painful revenge against everyone involved.  
Tomorrow. Maybe. Or after his honeymoon, more like. 

Fingers card through his hair, calloused and gentle. They settle at the back of his neck just as lips press against his ear. 

“Craig?” Tweek murmurs. “Are you mad?”

He lets the other stew for a precious second before he lifts his head, forehead finding purchase against his husband’s. 

“Oh, I’m not mad. Just wait till we get back home and you get to meet _ my _ family.”

\---

AN:

<strike>(Spoiler alert - there are literally no repercussions for Tweek. Craig’s family already adore him and are always on board with the roasting of their eldest.)</strike>

I had the wonderful opportunity to get involved in the _Book of Love, Volume 2_ Zine earlier this year! As all copies have been sent out now, I can finally share my submission. Traditions were inspired by [these](https://www.brides.com/gallery/wedding-traditions-around-the-world) [articles](https://eventforte.com/18-wedding-traditions-by-culture.html) and enough bride blogs to completely throw off my social media algorithm for weeks....

Everyone involved was really talented and lovely to work with - please check out the other works [here on the blog](https://thebookoflovezine.tumblr.com/)! And whilst you're there, [hit me up~](https://lwtis.tumblr.com/)


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